Oh Mistletoe
by Think My Name Is Funny Do You
Summary: A sneak peek into a much larger story in the works! Snape and Hermione get stuck under a mistletoe. Cute, funny, NOT creepy NOT OOC. "Her eyes widened more and more, as he cast a number of spells, each of them unsuccessful. She began to look around helplessly, hoping it were some cruel joke, and the prankster would jump out of the shadows and reverse whatever they'd done."
1. One Shot

**Oh Mistletoe**

The Great Hall was a sight to behold, with its magnificent cathedral ceiling exposed. Beyond the grand, wooden beams, the magical sky was reminiscent of a winter's eve. Rich shades of purple, blue and grey blended seamlessly before a soft glow, as if the light of the full moon was pushing through the clouds. Frosty strands of white descended through the beams, and drifted delicately downward. The crystalline flakes danced beautifully in their decent and gently faded midway to the ground. In their place, twelve oversized Christmas trees lined the walls. The trees were wrapped in warm, amber lights, and adorned with spectacular ornaments. The lights twinkled aimlessly, and wisps of silver tinsel sparkled under their glow. The fragrant decorations filled the room with the rich smell of pine, cinnamon, and sweet vanilla. An oversized hearth brought warmth to the room. The crackling and popping of the burning oak logs, and the occasional turning of a book page, were the only sounds that could be heard in the nearly empty room.

Near the fireplace, Hermione sat alone at one of the four tables that filled the Great Hall. She had her bare feet curled up next to her on the bench, and had propped a large, worn tome on her knees. Her winter boots were on the floor, neatly tucked beneath her seat. With one hand, she held the bulky volume in place. The other arm was resting before her on the table, and her pale hand wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa. She was dressed for comfort; wearing a pair of muggle leggings—grey and lined with fleece— and an oversized green sweater she'd attempted to knit the previous year, for S.P.E.W. Her hair was piled in a mess on top of her head, and barely held in place by a tightly wrapped hair tie.

The hour was late into the night, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to leave; especially not after what had transpired earlier that night. While she was overcome with worry, she couldn't resist the warmth that rose from her chest and tinged her cheeks pink. Suddenly finding it impossible to focus on what she was reading, she turned her attention to her cocoa. As she took a sip, a slight commotion in the Entrance Hall caught her attention. Curiously, she leaned forward to get a better view, but alas, could not see anything.

She placed her mug on the table, and slipped the book from her knees, carefully marking the page she was on. Not bothering with her shoes, she placed her toes gently on the cold, stone floor. She stopped just short of the door when she heard two familiar voices.

"…can hardly stand, I insist, Severus," the Headmaster's voice reached her ears.

Remaining in the shadows, she peered through the crack between the wall and the door. She caught sight of Professor Dumbledore supporting the weight of Professor Snape. Professor Snape was clutching his left leg, and appeared to be in great pain.

"I am more than capable of tending to my injuries, Albus," the Slytherin Head sneered.

Professor Snape began limping toward the stairs to the dungeons.

Professor Dumbledore sighed in defeat. He followed, continuing to offer support to the injured man.

"Poppy will be quite concerned, Severus. I alerted her as soon as you reentered the grounds."

Though his back was turned to her, she could practically see the glare upon Professor Snape's face as he said, "Yes, yes. It seems _all_ the women of Hogwarts are suddenly _concerned_."

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore replied, amused.

He turned back once, and his twinkling blue eyes connected with her chocolate ones for a split second. He winked briefly, then turned away and continued assisting Professor Snape down the stairs.

Hermione was rooted to the spot, and her eyes widened in surprise. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and a blush began to creep back to her cheeks. It was one thing to be out after curfew— after all, it was the holidays and there was hardly a soul at the castle— but Hermione was _not_ a rule breaker. She'd been caught eavesdropping! On her Headmaster and DADA professor, of all people!

She let her face fall into her hands and shook her head, mentally scolding herself. However, she quickly became aware of how terribly cold her toes had become, and she decided to gather her things and retire to her dormitory for the night.

When she finally climbed into her four poster bed, and pulled her comforter up to her chin, she found herself trying to think of anything other than what happened much earlier that evening. Despite her efforts, every time she closed her eyes, the scene replayed again and again. She fought sleep for a while, but the darkness eventually overcame her, and the events unfolded in her mind once more.

* * *

 **Much Earlier that Evening**

Hermione always disliked taking medication for illness, even as a child. However, after her accident with Polyjuice Potion, her dislike grew to include potions as well. Unfortunately, she'd caught a case of the common cold, and it was beginning to interfere with her studies. That was certainly where she drew the line. Against her normal attitude about medicating, she decided to visit Madame Pomphrey for some Pepper Up Potion. It was a relatively harmless potion, and Hermione knew it would help her immensely.

Checking the time, Hermione realized dinner had already started, and she'd be better off to go to the hospital wing after she ate. She returned the books she'd been reading to their appropriate places on the library shelves, and navigated her way to the Great Hall.

There were only a handful of students who'd stayed behind for the holidays, and all the Gryffindors were first and second years who she didn't know well. Hermione took a seat away from the small group of Gryffindors, and piled her plate full of food. Deciding to make good use of her time, Hermione pulled out a quill and parchment, to write a letter to her parents.

 **Dear Mum and Dad,**

 **I hope you are enjoying your time in France. I love the photos you sent, and wish I could be there to enjoy the holidays with you. As I said before, Harry is being targeted by a dark wizard right now, and it's possible he could use me to get to Harry. It's for everyone's safety that I stayed at Hogwarts for the winter break.**

 **Harry and Ron decided to go to The Burrow for the holidays. At first, I thought it'd be lonely at the castle, but I've quite enjoyed getting a break from the boys. As you can probably imagine, I've spent my free time reading and preparing for the upcoming term.**

 **I already sent Christmas gifts to The Burrow. I bought Harry and Ron each a broom polishing kit, a book of cosmetic charms for Ginny, candy for the twins, a new apron for Mrs. Weasley, and a flashlight with batteries for Mr. Weasley. I preordered both your gifts before the start of term, and they should arrive by mail before Christmas Eve.**

 **I can't wait to see you again, and I miss you terribly.**

 **Love you both,**

 **Hermione**

She folded up the parchment carefully, and tucked it into her bag along with the quill and ink. Since it was dark out already, she decided she'd have to mail the letter in the morning. She finished the last of her food quickly, and pushed the plate away.

Hermione pulled her bag onto her shoulders, and exited the Great Hall. She made her way through the Entrance Hall, and to the base of the Grand Staircase. There was a portrait just one floor below that had a secret passageway to the corridor outside the hospital wing. Deciding it'd be quickest, she began her descent, watching her feet to make sure she didn't fall through a disappearing step. She felt the temperature change as she turned a corner and continued downward. She shivered, despite her oversized thick, knit sweater. How did Slytherin students keep warm all winter?

She heard footsteps ahead, and glanced up to see Professor Snape headed toward the stairs. Paying him no extra attention, she merely stepped closer to the left to allow more room on the stairs. Hermione had placed one foot off the stairs, and Professor Snape had placed one foot on the stairs, when they suddenly became stuck.

Hermione, shocked by the sudden stop, felt her upper body fall forward. She thought surely she'd bust her face on the cold, stone floor, and threw her hands out in front of her. Quickly, though, an arm shot out, and she fell into it instead. It took her a moment to regain her composure, but when she did, she realized she had a death grip on the potions professor's right forearm.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor."

She pulled her hands back quickly, and crossed them in front of her. He'd certainly give her detention.

When he didn't say anything, she timidly spoke, "I'll just continue on then."

She made to move her feet, and once again went falling helplessly forward. To her utter embarrassment, Professor Snape snaked and arm around her waist, and steadied her once more.

"If you feel it worth your while to try that once more, I'm afraid you will have to deal with the consequences of your incessant stupidity, Miss Granger, as I will not continue to waste my time here," he sneered, "If the supposed brightest witch of her age would be so easily taken down by a simple sticking charm, I'm afraid there is little hope for your generation of dunderheads."

Hermione cringed, waiting for the punishment she was certain he was ready to give. Points loss? Detention?

She watched as he silently cast what she recognized to be _Finite Incantatum_ , and made to continue up the stairs. To her shock—and to his, if his expression were any indication—his feet did not move an inch. Her eyes widened more and more, as he cast a number of spells, each of them unsuccessful. She began to look around helplessly, hoping it were some cruel joke, and the prankster would jump out of the shadows and reverse whatever they'd done.

She snorted; that was unlikely. Who would admit to that, when the most feared professor in the school had fallen prey to it?

"Do not make that horrendous sound again, Miss Granger. It is maddening, and I don't want to explain to an irate Minerva why her house lost all its points."

She looked up at him to apologize once more, when something caught her eye on the ceiling. The small decoration began to grow, and her eyes widened in horror.

"No," she whined, "Oh no, no, no, n—," she was cut off.

"Silence! Ten points for your infuriating whining. Bleeding Gryffindors—."

She gulped as the mistletoe continued to grow, "Sir, above you."

He paused and looked upward; a new expression crossed his face. He made eye contact with her for a split second and she began rambling frantically.

"We just have to find whoever placed it here… the twins always used to do this in the common room… it can be undone by whoever placed it… there's not a lot of students, we can—," she was cut by a sharp intake of breath.

She watched in shock as her DADA professor doubled over, and clenched his left forearm in pain. Realization struck, and her fear filled eyes met his. She knew what _that_ meant. He was being summoned… by _HIM_.

He managed to stand upright again, but kept a tight grip on his left forearm. "There is no time for that, I need to leave _now_ ," he hissed.

She stared at him in horror, "But… but…" she stammered trying to find the right words. She couldn't kiss him!

"Miss Granger, do not flatter yourself to think I _want_ this. I need to maintain my appearance with the Dark Lord. Think of the Order," he snapped.

The Order, right. She placed her cool hand on her cheek, trying to reduce some of the heat she could feel rising into them. Deep breaths, she thought. You're a Gryffindor. You're brave. You can do this. She glanced up and made eye contact with him. Feeling like she could cry from the humiliation of it all, she quickly diverted her eyes, and turned her body away from him. Leaning against the stone wall, she tried to compose herself.

"You're making this worse," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "The more that mistletoe grows, the longer it will take to get away from it. Look at me, Miss Granger."

She took a deep breath and turned back to him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"If you wish, I can help you forget this ever happened later, but right now there are more urgent matters to attend to."

She took one final deep breath, looked into his eyes, and nodded, "Okay."

She had limited experience kissing, so she didn't really know how to start. Sensing, however, the professor was not about to make the first move on his younger student, she took initiative. It was the most awkward and embarrassing and humiliating moment of her life, but she timidly reached her hand out to his shoulder and stood on her tip toes. With eyes wide open and looking anywhere but him, she quickly leaned in and planted a peck on his lips. She made to move away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"I'm afraid the mistletoe will need more than that,"

Inches from his face, she felt his hot breath wash over her, and she turned an even deeper shade of crimson. Nodding, she leaned in once more, and this time he responded. His lips moved against hers gently, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She felt him snake an arm around her waist, and pull her closer to him. She took a deep breath as he deepened the kiss, and inhaled a mixture of sandalwood, licorice and rosemary.

She felt the magic loosen its grip on her feet, and pulled back, assuming he did too. The kiss ended abruptly, and her old potions master swept up the stairs and out of sight before Hermione had a chance to process what had happened.

The warmth of his lips still lingered on hers, and she absentmindedly brought her fingers to them. A ferocious blush rose to her face, at the realization of how terribly inappropriate the event was. She'd expected the kiss to be an unpleasant experience. While it hadn't been filled with passion or even a hint of romance, she was left surprised by the fact that she didn't feel the least bit repulsed. Then there was the fact he was clearly being summoned by You-Know-Who.

She thought about telling the Headmaster that Professor Snape was summoned, but then she decided she wasn't up for sharing exactly _how_ she knew that. She shook her head, and took off toward the library, deciding against the hospital wing. She knew a book was the only way to keep her distracted; distracted from the kiss, and distracted from her worry about him being summoned to You-Know-Who.

* * *

I'm thinking of incorporating this into a much larger story I'm currently writing. Please let me know what you think! If you're interested in seeing a multi-chapter story before and after this, please let me know and follow so I can let you know if/when I post it.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks for waiting patiently! This may seem redundant or slow, but bear with me! I'm setting up for future chapters. Once you get closer to the end of chapter one, things really start to take off.

*****This is the beginning of the year. Not a continuation from previous chapter. Previous chapter stands alone, and was an inspiration for this story*****

Enjoy!

* * *

Nestled deep in the hills –in a place so secluded even the postman couldn't find it— Hermione Granger was greeted by a lopsided sign that read, "The Burrow." Beyond the worn, wooden sign stood what was likely, at one time, a small stone farmhouse. Six crooked stories had been added haphazardly over the years, and towered dangerously over her. The home of the Weasley family overlooked a large yard, with a broom shed, a garage and many chickens. Behind the house was a gnome filled garden, surrounded by a fence, a hedge and gnarled trees. The garden had a sizable green pond, filled with frogs, and pleasantly smelled like honeysuckle and fresh cut grass. Over the hedge were meadows and fields that led up to the family's orchard, where her friends typically spent their summer playing quidditch. The small paddock was surrounded by trees, which hid it from the Muggles of the nearby village, Ottery St. Catchpole.

With a deep breath of the fresh, country air, Hermione gripped the handle of her worn leather trunk and made her way to the wooden door. Her fluffy orange half-Kneazle, Crookshanks, followed closely behind.

As an only child, she often felt lonely at her own home. Crookshanks kept her company, but she eagerly looked forward to returning to The Burrow each summer. Since she'd returned home from school in June, she'd been marking the calendar religiously, waiting for the day she would reunite with her friends.

When she entered the charming home, she heard a loud squeal and was instantly engulfed in a bone crushing hug. Pulling away after a moment, she took in the girl before her. Ginny Weasley had grown in height over the summer, and developed curves any teenage girl would love to have. Hermione thought of her own boyish body, and shook her head with a chuckle when she felt a pang of jealousy.

Keeping an arm around her friend, Ginny pulled her into the house.

"How have you been?" She gushed, "It's been a _nightmare_ here. Mum's trying to teach me to knit. Can you believe that? She says quidditch isn't going to snag a husband…" Ginny shook her head solemnly, "That woman."

"Knitting? What could _possibly_ be worse," Hermione teased, rolling her eyes.

It sounded exactly like something Mrs. Weasley would say, though. Hermione's mother would much rather see her involved in extracurricular activities, than learning housewife skills for her future husband.

"You know," she continued, "I knit several hats and scarves for S.P.E.W. last year. It's not so hard."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Oh, hush you. If Mum hears, she will make you sit down and teach me. _Honestly_."

The girls continued past the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner, and up the first flight of stairs. Like the upper levels of the home, the stairs were placed lopsided and chaotically. Each step was a different size and shape from the last, but Hermione found it charming. It gave the home character.

"Did you have a nice visit with your parents?" Ginny asked. She stumbled up the stairs, but caught herself on the banister.

"It was good," Hermione chuckled at her friend's clumsiness, "My parents took me to France for a couple weeks. I kept busy."

" _Ooh la la_ ," Ginny wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, "I _bet_ you kept busy."

"That's _n_ _ot_ what I meant," she insisted with a smile, feeling a slight heat rise to her cheeks.

What she meant was she kept busy with all the distractions of the family vacation, which kept her mind off the incident at the Ministry. It kept her mind off the weeks of pain due to Dolohov's curse, and it kept her mind off Sirius's death. Though she'd had plenty of time to mourn, the heartache was still there.

Blinking a few times to prevent the threat of tears, Hermione continued, "On the contrary, I heard _you_ have been busy. Dean Thomas, Gin?"

She gave Hermione a playful nudge with her elbow, "Believe me; I've not heard the end of it from my brothers."

"At least he's a Gryffindor," Hermione replied with a shrug, "Surely that earns some points with your brothers."

"At least he's from Hogwarts," Ginny sighed, "Mum's invited _Phlegm_ to stay with us."

Hermione's eye twitched as they began climbing the final flight of stairs to Ginny's room. She remembered the stunning blonde from Beauxbatons—and Ron's massive crush on her.

"Remember when Ron tried to ask her to the Yule Ball?" Hermione reminisced, "He screamed at her, and then nearly fainted from embarrassment." Part of her was happy he never scored a date with _Phlegm_.

Ginny erupted in laughter at the memory as the two girls entered her room.

It was small, but cozy. It was painted a pale orange, and was decorated with her favorite quidditch posters. Photos of attractive, famous wizards had been added over the years. A second bed had been conjured for Hermione, and was nestled in a cramped corner of the room— as it was each summer. She smiled at the familiar scene, feeling the happiness and relief she'd been waiting for all summer.

She pulled her trunk next to the bed and sat down on the edge. Crookshanks curled into a ball on her pillow and purred in delight. There was a small table pinched between the bed and the wall, with a small lamp and a framed photo. It was a picture of Ron and Ginny in Egypt, hugging next to the pyramids.

"Where is he, anyway?" she asked about Ron.

She kicked off her sandals and assumed a cross leg position on the bed.

"Playing quidditch, of course," Ginny sunk down on her own bed and rolled her eyes, "Harry is too."

Hermione shook her head. She would never understand how anyone could enjoy flying around, so high in the air, trying not to get knocked off their broom by a bludger.

"I would take a book out there, but it's getting late. I'll just wait to see them when they get in."

Ginny agreed with a nod, "I'm sure it won't be long. With everything that's going on, Mum doesn't like anyone to be outside after dark."

Hermione tried to keep her mind off You-Know-Who's return. It scared her to think about what he was capable of, and scared her even more that she had no way to protect her parents while she was away at school. She hoisted her trunk up on the bed, and shook her head to clear her racing mind.

She decided not to unpack her clothes, since they would leave for school in a short few days. Instead, she reached into the top of her trunk to pull out a book for light reading. She also had a muggle fashion magazine, _Vogue_ , she'd picked up in France, for Ginny.

After tossing the magazine to her, Hermione propped herself up on a pillow and began turning the pages of her own book.

Ginny sighed in awe, "I wish they sold clothes like this at Diagon Alley.

"Maybe you can come shopping for muggle clothes with me and my family one day," she offered.

Ginny snorted, "Not until this war is settled. I'm surprised Mum is even letting me go back to Hogwarts."

Hermione shot her a concerned look, "Why on Earth wouldn't she let you go back? Hogwarts is the safest place to be right now."

Ginny shrugged, "All I know is she lost it for a bit, but Dad talked her back to her senses. I think it had something to do with all the rubbish in the _Daily Prophet_ about Dumbledore."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, and continued reading _The New Theory of Numerology_.

A short time later, Ron and Harry poked their heads through the door to say 'Hi.' Despite being dirty and smelly from playing quidditch, Hermione embraced them both in a tight hug.

"I see you're reading again," Ron pointed to the worn tome she left on the bed.

She rolled her eyes and said with mock exasperation, "Yes, Ronald Weasley, I'm doing some light reading."

"Light?" Harry and Ron exclaimed at the same time.

"The _Prophet_ is 'light' reading," Harry insisted.

"Hardly," she said, "This book is perfect for _light_ reading. Not too big, not too small. You should try it sometime," she teased.

"Fat chance," Ron said with a sloppy grin, "You should try flying."

She eyed the broom in his hand warily. She'd only been forced into the air a handful of times, and she'd never liked it once. She preferred her feet on the ground.

"Not likely," she said firmly.

Ron shrugged in defeat.

"I think we have a great chance at the Quidditch Cup this year," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder, "We've been getting a lot of practice in."

Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"I just wish you two would put half as much effort into your studies," Hermione lectured halfheartedly.

She couldn't help but snort at the sheepish, lopsided grins they both wore. They were both very proud of themselves—that much was obvious to her. She supposed it was good they put effort into at least one thing without her urging.

"I'm sure you got about eighteen _owls_ and we won't have a single class with you this year," Ron said with a shrug.

Harry nodded in agreement, "I don't think we'll be able to slack off much this year."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm quite certain eighteen O.W.L.'s isn't possible, but thanks."

Ginny groaned, "I don't even want to talk about _owls_. I have quidditch and prefect duties on top of studying this year."

"It's not so bad," Harry promised, "You'll do great."

"At least I'll do well at DADA, thanks to you three."

The DA briefly flashed into her mind, and she wondered if they would continue training in the Room of Requirement during the upcoming year. It'd been really helpful before, but she was certain with NEWT classes, it would only add to the list of work.

"Speaking of," Ron prompted, shooting Harry a look.

He looked confused momentarily, but a look of recognition crossed his features and he turned to Hermione, "By the way, I met the newest Hogwarts DADA professor. He—"

" _Dinner_!" they heard from below.

"I'll tell you at dinner," he decided.

"You best be off to clean up then," she replied, "I'm sure Mrs. Weasley won't let you boys sit at the table, smelling like that."

Ron rolled his eyes, "You bloody well got that right. Been out there for hours, haven't we?"

"No," Ginny interjected, "You've been out there for _days_."

Ron dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand, and led Harry up the stairs to his room.

Ginny turned to Hermione, "If not for Mum, I swear they'd just pitch a tent up there."

She snorted, "Of course they would."

"C'mon," Ginny said, "Mum said she was cooking a big dinner for you, but that won't stop Ron from inhaling it all. I _swear_ that boy's stomach is a bottomless pit."

O~O~O~O~O~O

When Hermione woke the next morning, the sun had just barely risen. The sky was a pale purple, and the house was dark. She had always been an early riser, and she had a very consistent routine in the mornings. She began her day with a bit of meditation, which she was introduced to at a young age, by her mother. Then she showered, then read for a bit, and finished her routine with a light breakfast.

She incorporated exercising after her first duel, in Dumbledore's Army. She found dueling took quite a bit of stamina, and with You-Know-Who's return, she was more motivated than ever to be in good shape. She preferred to exercise before she meditated, because she found she was able to focus more on her mind, after physical exertion.

After changing into a pair of jogging shorts and an old summer-camp tee, she quietly descended the stairs. When she finally made it to the ground floor, she was greeted by an unusual sight in the kitchen. Standing where Mrs. Weasley usually stood, was Fleur.

Fleur must have sensed her presence because she met Hermione's eyes and said, "Bonjour 'ermione."

Hermione felt a foreign magic wash over her. It was barely noticeable, but she recognized it as the effects of Fleur's Veela heritage. She smiled in greeting, and peeled her eyes away from the French beauty.

Resting her eyes on the piles of dough on the counter instead, she inquired, "You're cooking?"

"Oui. It eez ze only way I know 'ow to impress 'er," Fleur said with a shrug.

She assumed 'her' referred to Mrs. Weasley. Hermione was reminded why Ginny called her Phlegm, and had to resist the urge to cringe at her heavy, French accent.

Deciding she didn't really want to hear more of Fleur's awful voice, but not wanting to be rude, she said, "Good luck with that. I'll just be outside," and then proceeded to exit through the back door.

Hermione wasn't completely sure how far the wards extended from the house. She knew they must go at least as far as the orchard; otherwise Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let the boys play quidditch. She checked her shoe laces before beginning a light jog up the hill. When she'd made a complete lap back to the house, she felt like she'd only begun to exert herself. She ran seven more laps, increasing her speed with each one.

She finally collapsed onto an old, rusty bench near the garden. Breathing heavily, she wiped her sweaty, matted hair away from her face.

The smell of honeysuckle was stronger than usual, probably from the morning humidity. Finding the garden bench to be extremely peaceful, she decided it would be the perfect place for her to meditate. She found clearing her thoughts, and being hyperaware of her mind, helped her in a number of ways. It helped her with her magic; and to it, she attributed being able to learn and execute new spells with little effort. It also helped her keep a level head in all the troublesome situations Harry and Ron seemed to drag her into.

After the incident at the Ministry at the end of term, she decided she had new goals for her meditation. She knew if Harry had taken his Occlumency lessons more seriously, Sirius might still be alive. Hermione recognized a full-blown war with You-Know-Who was inevitable, and could see the value in a skill like Occlumency. She'd been meditating for years, so she felt like the skill should come easily to her. Unfortunately, she didn't have anyone to test her, so she wasn't sure if she'd made much progress.

Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and continued her regimen. After about twenty minutes of meditation, she stretched out her limbs and returned to the house. She climbed the stairs back to Ginny's room. She found Crookshanks had risen from his slumber finally, so she pulled a portion of his food from her trunk and greeted him with a scratch behind his ear.

"Morning, Crooks."

She chose an outfit close to the top of her trunk, to save her the trouble of rearranging everything, and carried the distressed, denim shorts and white shirt to the bathroom. After showering and taming her wild hair, she ventured back to Ginny's room, where the fiery Gryffindor was just waking up.

"Morning!" she chirped, tossing her dirty clothes next to her trunk.

She fought to hold back a laugh at the scowl she received in response.

Ginny mumbled something incomprehensible, but surely unpleasant. She managed to pull herself out of bed, and squeezed her eyes nearly shut when the sunlight hit her face.

"Fleur made breakfast," Hermione said, "I didn't know she could cook?"

Ginny snorted, "She thinks it gets her on Mum's good side. Honestly, it kind of irks her off. Mum's real territorial, you know."

She smirked, "Well it smelled positively delicious, and I've worked up an appetite this morning. See you down there?"

"Mmhm," Ginny managed with a yawn, "Just going to shower first."

Hermione left Ginny to get ready for the day. After climbing back down the crooked stair case, she reached the kitchen, where Ron and Harry were already seated and eating.

"Good morning, boys." Hermione threw and arm around each of them, and poked her head between them to examine their plates.

"Well, how is it?" she asked quietly, but curious.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, adding more to his plate.

Ron, with a mouthful of food, managed, "I's ood ou sh'd pry om."

She wasn't quite sure what he meant, so she just raised her eyebrows in response.

He finally swallowed his food and tried again, "It's good, you should try some."

She chuckled and shook her head. She grabbed a plate and slipped a decent portion of food onto it.

"By the way," Harry said, "We got owls back."

She furrowed her brow, "What do you mean, you got owls back?"

"Our test results," he explained. "I got six owls."

She lit up instantly.

"We got our O.W.L. results?" she exclaimed, "How were your grades?"

"I got an 'O' in DADA, failed Divination and History of Magic, 'A' and 'E' in everything else."

"You did well, Harry," she hugged him with one arm, "Six O.W.L.'s.

"Only thing is, I don't think I can be an Auror now. Snape only takes newt potion students with an 'O'."

"You could always do an independent study, and choose to sit the N.E.W.T. for potions," she reassured him.

Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron snorted. She turned to him.

"And how did you do?" she inquired.

"Six owls," he said proudly, "Got 'A' and 'E' in everything, but failed Divination and History of Magic."

It was Ron's turn for a one-armed hug.

"I'm proud of you two," she said.

She genuinely was proud of them. They studied more than she gave them credit for.

"Your letter is there." Ron pointed to a sealed letter on the windowsill.

She suddenly felt nervous. She knew she studied hard, and she felt mostly confident when she finished her exams. What if she botched them all, though? She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled the letter to her and opened it. With shaking hands, she pulled the parchment out and read her results.

~O~

 _ **Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**_

 _Pass Grades_ _Fail Grades_

 _Outstanding (O) Poor (P)  
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)  
Acceptable (A) Troll (T)_

 _ **Hermione Jean Granger has achieved:**_

 _Ancient Runes: O Arithmancy: O_

 _Astronomy: O Care Of Magical Creatures: O_

 _Charms: O Defense Against The Dark Arts: E_

 _Herbology: O History Of Magic: O_

 _Potions: O Transfiguration: O_

~O~

The bottom of the letter was stamped with the Ministry seal, and signed by Professor Dumbledore.

Her eyes wandered back to DADA, and her grade of "E." She felt an overwhelming disappointment wash over her, and she tore her eyes away from the parchment.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron snatched the parchment from her, "You look like someone just killed your cat."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "It's just not what I'd expected."

"You got _nine_ 'O's and one 'E'. Merlin, Hermione, that's ten owls!"

She shrugged in response, and took a bite of her breakfast.

"You're actually disappointed aren't you?" he said incredulously.

She shook her head. No, she definitely was not disappointed—not for the reason he thought she was, at least. The grade was perfectly acceptable. The problem was it proved defense was her weakest skill. It was like a slap to the face; because it was the one skill she needed the most, if she were to survive the upcoming war.

Harry looked like he was about to say something, so Hermione was truly grateful when Ginny stumbled into the room. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to apologize for his achievements. She knew she'd have to find a time, though, to tell him she wasn't upset he'd outscored her in DADA.

Ginny steadied herself and up righted the umbrella stand she'd knocked over. She joined Hermione at the counter, and wrinkled her nose at the meal Fleur prepared. She grabbed a piece of toast.

"Mum wants to know if you three are ready to go to Diagon Alley today?"

O~O~O~O~O~O

The sight of Diagon Alley shook Hermione to her core. Diagon Alley had always been a place bustling with witches and wizards, full of life and energy. The shops had always been open and welcoming, and the street vendors were respectable.

If there were any indication of war, it certainly showed at Diagon Alley. Gone was the buzzing of voices, and excitement of children. The brick lined street was littered with trash. Most of the shops were closed; windows and doors had been boarded up. Some of them, like Ollivander's, were completely torn down, left in a pile of rubble.

"I can't believe… Ollivander's," she indicated the pile of stone, where the shop once stood, "All the first years got their wands there."

Ron shook his head in disbelief, "Reckon they'll have to shop for wands in Hogsmeade now."

She shook her head at the sad sight, and continued forward with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Posters of wanted criminals lined the brick walls. Purple fliers depicting the Ministry's printed advice for staying safe were hung at random throughout the alley.

However, Gringott's, one of the safest buildings in wizarding Britain, stood tall at the end of the alley. It glowed like a beacon of light, its magical power emanating off of its crisp, white, stone walls.

Fred and George's joke shop was one of the few shops in the Alley still full of joy and light. Even the building looked lively, with its purple bricks, and bright orange trim. Hermione hadn't seen the shop previously, and chuckled when she saw the two story tall Fred—or was it George?—statue in the window, with its animated top hat, and disappearing rabbit.

They worked their way through the crowd until they were finally in the shop.

"I see Fred and George over there," Ron pointed toward the twins, who were standing above the swarm of shoppers on a set of bright orange stairs.

After getting the grand tour from the twins, Mrs. Weasley left with Ron and Harry to be fitted for new robes at Madame Malkin's. She and Ginny agreed to stay at the shop with George, while Fred went to buy everyone's school books for the year.

She was examining the love potions, wondering how much trouble they would cause at Hogwarts, when Ginny nudged her in the rib.

"I think you have an admirer," she said with a grin, tilting her head in the boy's direction.

Hermione furrowed her brow and turned her attention to him. Cormac McLaggen—she knew him from Prefect duties, but otherwise had never spent time with him. She averted her eyes away from him.

"I don't have time for admirers," she said bluntly, placing the potion back on the shelf, "I have N.E.W.T. level classes to worry about."

Ginny whispered, "C'mon Hermione, he's really cute!"

She rolled her eyes, but looked once more. He wasn't bad to look at, honestly, but his intense staring was beyond creepy.

"I know you really enjoy what you have with Dean," she replied, "but I'm more than happy without a boyfriend. I don't have time for one."

"Who said anything about a boyfriend? You need something with no strings attached," Ginny wriggled her eyebrows.

She blushed, "Let's move on to something different."

Ginny chuckled and pulled her to another corner of the shop, "Fine, but we will get back to this later."

The girls continued to explore the shop. Hermione was in awe of the twins' extraordinary imaginations and magical abilities. These tricks and games were not exactly easy magic. Nevertheless, she continued to shake her head, thinking of all the items she would be confiscating this upcoming year.

She was standing by the pygmy puffs with Ginny, when Harry returned looking livid.

She furrowed her brow, "What's wrong?"

"It's _Malfoy_ ," he spat, "He kept guarding his left forearm at Madame Malkin's. You should have seen it! I bet you anything he is one of _them_ now."

She took a moment to process it all. Harry wasn't generally so enraged by Malfoy, but she supposed with everything that happened at the Ministry, it was to be expected.

"What would You-Know-Who want with Malfoy?" she challenged.

"I dunno, but I know what I saw. I'm going to find out what he is up to."

Uh-oh. She knew that look. Harry was planning something, which usually led to trouble. She really was _not_ ready for another adventure. She was still recovering from the last one.

She sighed, "Harry… I really don't think we need to worry about it."

He looked at her for a moment, then finally nodded his head, "Okay."

He turned back into the crowd of shoppers, and she narrowed her eyes. That was not an, "Okay, I'll drop it," it was an, "Okay, I'll do this without you."

She followed suit and began pushing her way through the crowd, trying to keep up with him. She lost him for a moment, but continued forward, assuming he was headed for the shop door. She finally made her way to a window, and was able to see Ron and Harry outside in the Alley.

Ron was pointing at the unmistakable Malfoy, who was stepping out of Twilfitt and Tattings. The blonde looked around, as if to be sure nobody was following him, and took off in a rush.

She watched in near disbelief as her two friends began following Malfoy, and slipped under the invisibility cloak together. She ran outside the shop, in an effort to stop them before they did anything irrational. Fortunately, the two of them had grown over the years, and the cloak barely covered them from head to toe, so Hermione could catch a glimpse of their feet every few steps.

She watched as Malfoy turned down Knockturn Alley. An uneasy feeling settled over Hermione as they entered the dark, twisting alleyway. The brick lined walls seemed to narrow as they walked, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand. The people of Knockturn Alley looked as unwelcoming and dangerous as the objects within the dusty shop windows.

Without warning, Malfoy disappeared around a corner. The boys sped up, so they wouldn't lose sight of him. She sped up as well, but lost track of them in the process. She wandered around for a moment, hoping she might get lucky and spot them again, when she saw a sight that filled her with terror.

Just in front of her, stood three Death Eaters. She recognized Bellatrix Lestrange, but the other two had their backs turned to her.

She raised her wand instinctively, and calmed her breathing. She knew it wouldn't be easy, taking on three Death Eaters, but she had learned a lot from the DA. If they noticed her, she wasn't going down without a fight.

Thinking of the DA reminded her of the galleons she'd made as a communication device between members. She always kept hers in her bag, and prayed Harry or Ron brought theirs to Diagon Alley. She decided it was worth trying to alert them to the danger in the alley, so she began to _Accio_ the coin from her bag.

She'd only begun the wand movements when she suddenly felt a large hand cover her mouth from behind, and a strong hand wrapped around her wand arm. The attacker brought her arm down so that it was against her front, and his arm against her waist, then pushed her into the shadow of the alleyway. It happened so fast, she didn't even have time to process what was occurring until she was pinned in place between the alley wall and the firm body against her back.

She struggled to break free, and cried for help. The sound was muted by her attackers hand, and despite twisting and turning her body furiously, she was unable to escape.

"You foolish girl," the man sneered, "You overestimate your abilities."

She paused. She knew that voice. When she stopped struggling, he removed his hand and placed it on the wall next to her. She relaxed, but only slightly; her heart was racing from the adrenaline. He continued to hold her wand arm firmly against her body.

"My abilities?" she thought aloud. She was only trying to cast _Accio_ ; it was a fairly simple spell.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I would hope an insufferable know it all, such as yourself, would have enough common sense not to take on three fully trained wizards. Sadly, you foolhardy Gryffindors always have lacked—"

"Professor Snape?" she cut him off. She _did_ recognize the voice.

She must have spoken louder than she'd intended, because his hand clamped back over her mouth.

"Quiet!" he whispered harshly, almost in panic.

She flinched at the sudden movement, adrenaline pumping through her once again, but nodded her head in understanding. Chills ran up her spine. He finally removed his hand once more, and she was reminded why he was so feared throughout the school. His voice was deadly, even in a whisper.

She bit her lip, wondering if she should even say anything at all. She knew he would take away fifty points and give her detention if she questioned him at school; but she wasn't at school, and he wasn't her teacher at Knockturn Alley.

"Prove it," she finally dared.

She heard an annoyed huff, and could imagine, in her head, the look on his face. If he were somebody else trying to impersonate Professor Snape, he definitely had the man's personality correct. She almost trusted him. She was in Knockturn Alley, though, with her face pressed against a brick wall. She wouldn't trust Merlin himself without proof.

He flipped her around so that her back was against the wall, and they were face to face. He never let go of her wand arm, and moved it from her waist to the wall next to her hip. His body was closer to hers than she realized, but she was able to see that he did, indeed, look like her potions professor.

He had the same crooked nose and the same greasy, black hair. His dark eyes bore into hers, and she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

"My fourth year," she stated, "A stray curse from Malfoy hit me and caused my teeth to grow rapidly. What words did Professor Snape say when he saw?"

His expression hardened slightly, but she otherwise saw no change.

He responded, "I sent Goyle to the hospital wing and took points away from Potter and Weasley."

She shook her head, "What did you say to _me_."

He let out an annoying huff and sneered, "I see no difference."

The way he sneered in response reminded her so vividly of her fourth year, she had no doubt in her mind he was truly himself. She nodded in agreement, and blushed at the embarrassing memory. Biting her lip once more, she thought to dare another question.

"Will you free my arm?" she glanced down to the side where it was pinned to the wall.

For a moment, it crossed her mind that many romance novels had women pinned against the wall in a similar way. That maybe, to someone standing nearby, they looked like lovers in a heated moment. She blushed and glanced away from his hand on her arm, finally making eye contact with him.

His eyes widened ever so slightly and he released it. Whether he came to the same realization, or because he'd forgotten he still had it in his hand, she wasn't sure. She continued to blush nevertheless, aware of how discomfited the situation was.

He moved his free hand to the wall, so that both arms were raised. His cloak hung like a curtain, shielding her from the dangerous view of the Death Eaters.

She was finally able to relax, and attempted to peek over his shoulder to see if the Death Eaters were still there. Unfortunately, he stood at least a head taller than her, and she never saw beyond his cloak.

Regardless, he realized what she was doing, and answered her silent question.

"They're still there, you foolish girl. Did you honestly think you could take on three fully trained Death Eaters, on your own?" he sneered.

She wanted to huff in annoyance, or roll her eyes, but knew Professor Snape wouldn't take that behavior lightly. Instead, she settled for crossing her arms, but when she tried, she came to the frustrating realization there wasn't enough space between her body and his. Realizing what she was trying to do, he took a small step back. She let her arms fall back to her sides and let out a sigh at the gauche failure. Her eyes met his beady black ones, and she began the explanation.

"As it so happens, Sir, I was simply going to cast a spell to retrieve a communication device from my bag," she patted the small satchel resting on her hip, "I had no intentions of fighting them, unless they took notice of me."

He eyed her for a moment, as if skeptical. After some time, she began to feel uncomfortable under his strong gaze. She shifted her eyes to the ground and bit her lip. Finally, he let out a long breath, as if he were exasperated from some inner argument she wasn't privy to. The smell of spearmint toothpaste washed over her.

"Just what are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" He demanded.

"Following Malfoy," she responded with a shrug. Well, technically she was following the boys, who were following Malfoy, but it was much easier to simply avoid a discussion about Harry's invisibility cloak.

She saw him stiffen. She came to the conclusion the Death Eaters must have started moving again, so she remained quiet.

Finally, after several moments, he relaxed.

"Foolish as ever," he finally replied with a sneer. "Now get yourself back to Diagon Alley, before Saint Potter, in all his arrogance, sends out a search party."

She nodded in response. Honestly, if Harry and Ron got back to the joke shop to find her missing, it was a legitimate possibility a search party would be sent out.

She started to walk away but heard, "Miss Granger."

Looking back at him, she saw him beginning to unbutton the top of his cloak.

"Your… attire… will no doubt draw attention to you. You look like a lost muggle wandering through Knockturn Alley."

She looked down at her frayed shorts, and felt her cheeks begin to heat. She hadn't exactly considered that when she stepped into Knockturn Alley.

"Here," he handed her the cloak, "It's enchanted to direct attention away from the wearer."

She pulled the cloak into her arms, and she could feel the warmth from his body radiating off the garment.

"Oh, um," she paused looking down at the cloak in her arms. She really couldn't say no. She just was surprised by the selflessness. "Thanks, Sir."

She looked up to let him know she would get it back to him soon, but he was gone.

* * *

 **I write works of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. All characters used in the stories were created and are owned by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim them as my own, or claim the world they are represented in as my own. The stories I write are invented by me, and are not portrayed or believed to be part of J.K. Rowling's story. These stories are simply for entertainment purposes, and I seek to make no profit from them. I would like to thank J.K. Rowling for creating the magical world of Harry Potter, and introducing me to a story which continues to make an impact on my life today.**


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